


Blooms of Many Colors

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Flowers, Fluff, Gen, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wolmeric Week (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Wolmeric Week 2021, Prompt: FlowersThis time it's not set in the modern high school AU!This one's set between 5.0 and 5.3 patch wise
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 4





	Blooms of Many Colors

Berylla read the note a second time. A tiny frown creased her brows. “Idyllshire?” she murmured. “What's Aymeric doing in Idyllshire?”

Tataru and Krile glanced at each other. Krile covered her mouth for a moment and Tataru grinned. The tall warrior looked over at both of them and quirked her lips.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Krile replied in a sing song tone.

“Bullshit,” Berylla snorted. “You both look smug as fuck. What is it?”

“Uhp, look at the time!” Krile got up from her chair, eyes bright with mischief. “I need to check on the others!”

“Sorry to run off,” Tataru put in, also getting up, “but I have letters to seal up before the mail leaves for the day – ”

“Bye!”

“Later, Berylla!”

The Warrior of Light and Darkness sat there, blinking, as the two Lalafellin women scampered away and out of sight.

“Estinien's right,” she muttered to herself, though she was smiling. “Those two are a menace.”

Then she too stood up from the table. After all, just because her fellow Scions were almost certainly planning mischief – that wasn't about to stop her from going to her beloved's side.

**IDYLLSHIRE FIRST ANNUAL FLORAL EXHIBITION**

Berylla peered up at the gigantic banner that stretched across the path leading out from the aetheryte. But soon she was distracted by a mellow voice.

“Hello, my love.”

“Aymeric,” and then she was wrapped in warm arms, a warm mouth was over hers, and for that moment, absolutely nothing was wrong in her world.

When he let her come up for air, Berylla smiled into Aymeric's eyes. “Hi.”

“I am glad you received my message.” There was a sly tilt to his smile, something about the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and Berylla's smile got bigger. There was no doubt in her mind all of a sudden that Krile and Tataru had been scheming with the Lord Speaker.

 _Maybe I ought to be upset about it – Fury knows I've had my fill of scheming after all the shit that went down on the First_. But instead the idea filled her with anticipation. This was the sort of scheming meant only to bring a little bit more joy into someone's life.

“So tell me, Lord Speaker,” she said, her tone light, “why are we meeting each other at a flower show?”

He chuckled slightly as he released her – though not for long. He captured her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. She noticed, finally, that he was not wearing any of his usual finery. Instead he wore a pair of plain blue jeans and a white silk shirt with a black knit vest over it. He still looked so scrumptious that she wanted to drag him off to any available bed... But clearly that was the last thing on _his_ mind right now.

They started walking along the path, and the moment they rounded the curve, Berylla had to smile. Flowers were everywhere. It was plain that they were all potted plants, but the sheer riot of color was a delight to the eye. The inhabitants of Idyllshire had gone all out in more ways than one: there were sculptures and eclectic looking structures that held more plants, and in several places some clever artists had managed to create sculptures from the flowers themselves. It was, in a word, enchanting.

Artfully placed among the beautiful show-pieces and sculptures were little pockets of botanists and vendors with small tables set up to display posters and pamphlets and little bags that likely contained seeds and so forth.

The exhibition was clearly also an opportunity for connoisseurs to place orders for some of the very flowers being displayed.

Berylla stayed with Aymeric, smiling hugely at the way his face lit up and the dignified excitement in his voice as he discussed this rose or that lily with the proud growers. _This is such a domestic side to him, and he's so very peaceful and happy. Gods, what I wouldn't give to just be able to do this kind of thing with him and not worry about the fate of whole worlds for a while_.

A ripple of color caught her eye as a breeze whispered across the plants, and she turned her head. Aymeric paused in what he was saying, feeling Berylla's fingers tighten on his arm.

When he looked over at her, he saw her staring at a particular display.

Irises.

Not just regular old purple irises, either – these were all shades of blue, from a delicate pastel to a sumptuous blue not unlike his own Speaker's robes, right through to a blue so dark it could nearly be called black. They were all of the tall variety, with white and yellow beards and spectacular standards and falls. Berylla's mouth was slightly open, and he smiled down at her.

“Shall we take a closer look, my love?”

She blinked, and glanced up at him, her cheeks coloring a little. “Yes...please.”

So he walked with her towards the display. When she began to ask the pretty little Miqo'te girl questions, he couldn't hold back a grin of delight. Seeing her take an interest in his own hobby filled his heart with a quiet joy, something totally unlike the tempestuous passion she so easily roused in him at other times.

She took the pamphlet that the attending botanist offered, and left his side for a bit, to more closely examine the gorgeous blooms. He, too, accepted a pamphlet, and then joined her, trailing after her without intruding, scanning the list of cultivars and their prices.

So when he nearly bumped into her, he was rather surprised to realize she had frozen in place. Even more startling to see her eyes welling up with tears at a particular cluster of blooms.

“Berylla?”

She shook her head, and then hid her face for a moment. “N-nothing, I'm fine, it's nothing.”

He set his hand on her shoulder and she looked back up at him, all sign of tears banished.

“Are you sure...?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, it's – maybe later I can tell you but not now. Not here.”

“Very well.”

She smiled at him, and he recognized the flutter in her voice, the ever so slight tremble in her lips. “Let's keep looking. I'm fascinated to see what else they have.”

He nodded, and she set her hand on his arm once more. He led her onward, but not before making a mental note to come back and speak to this particular vendor again, when he was once more alone.

Late that night, once he had worn her out with walking all over the exhibition, then a fine meal, and best of all an hour of unhurried lovemaking, he held her close and murmured into her ear.

“Pray, my darling warrior, tell me what upset you so this morning.”

“I – those flowers.” She snuggled into him, her voice rough as she tried to control her emotions. “The color just... oh, it sounds so stupid.” She sighed. “They were the same color as Alphinaud's eyes.”

“Ah.” Aymeric breathed a small sigh of understanding. “I admit I had hoped that your return to us would bring us more answers as to how to aid the other Scions.”

“They're still...” her breath hitched, “sleeping. We might be able to do something about the situation...but I don't understand anything about it right now. There was a lot of discussion and research.”

“Our dear scholar must be in his element.”

“No...he isn't. He's worried. And trying to hide it from me.”

“And that worries you, I take it?”

“They're dying, Aymeric. Their bodies can't go on like this much longer. And I can't – I don't know how to help. I'm not worried.” She wrapped her arms around him tightly and buried her face against his neck. “I'm _terrified_. And...and a little bit...” The next word was mumbled too quietly for him to hear.

“A little bit what, my love?”

“Ashamed...” She pulled back, and gave him a guilty look. “I've been...I've been with Alphinaud. While we were...there.”

He stroked her hair back from her face. “I had assumed as much. We had discussed this before, my love...”

“Alisaie, too. Once.”

He blinked at her, then smiled slightly. “I confess that does not surprise me as much as perhaps it ought. She is very like her brother in many ways.”

Berylla's cheeks were very red. “You're – you're okay?”

He kissed her. “Of course. I love you, and I have ever had faith in you.”

She burrowed into him again. “I don't deserve you. But gods am I grateful for the way you love me.”

He just held her tight, until at last she relaxed in his arms, and slept.

Two days later, Berylla found herself being led gently into the small garden, with a length of blue cloth covering her eyes.

“What on earth is all this about, Aymeric?” she asked, her voice rippling with laughter. “We already had breakfast, and I was all set to take a nap...”

“You will see in but a moment more, I promise.”

He took her shoulders and turned her just a bit, and then finally took the cloth away from her eyes.

She stared, then turned to face him, her arms going around his neck as she kissed him with abandon. Then she turned back, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her. Her voice was breathless. “There are so many! When did – why did you – ”

He held her close. “I know I cannot well ask you to stay here in Ishgard with me. Nor can I remain in Mor Dhona to watch over Alphinaud and the others in your stead. But with these...it is my hope that these blooms will give me some comfort when you must away once more. That they may bring you that same comfort as well, in future days.”

“You – you gave up part of your garden for Alphinaud? For me?”

“Of course. I care for you both, and if I cannot keep you with me, then I shall at the least provide a place that shows how you have both taken root in my heart.”

“Oh...Aymeric.”

Berylla turned in his arms, and reached up to cup his face in her hands. Tears spangled her cheeks, but she was smiling.

He leaned in, and took her mouth with his, moving gently, softly.

The kiss did not remain soft or gentle for long.

As she bore him down to the stones of the path, the irises bent their heads in the breeze, as if demurely looking away from the lovers.


End file.
